


Best Part of Me

by TheHomieHeda



Series: Hard to Love [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, G!p Lexa, mentions of abuse, mentions of suicidal ideations, mild verbal abuse and violence, mommy clarke, snapshots of a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-31 14:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19428040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHomieHeda/pseuds/TheHomieHeda
Summary: The knowledge that you would do just about anything for this girl catches you by surprise.She's the total opposite of you, the yin to your yang, but there's such an odd sensation of feeling complete when she's around.  You never believed in love at first sight until her, and the knowledge that you were head over heals for her before you ever even heard her speak is a secret you'll take to your grave.  She was a kind of sunrise you'd never seen before and a sunset you wanted to watch forever.  You knew after the first conversation that you wouldn't be able to walk away, and you were just thankful that she seemed to feel the same.





	Best Part of Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to "Apple Juice", told from Lexa's POV.  
> If you haven't read the first part, you might want to start there. Just saying. Not trying to tell you how to live your life, though.
> 
> *****TRIGGER WARNING*****
> 
> Mentions of abuse, both verbal and physical. There is also mention of suicidal ideations/overdoses as well as murder-suicide (though its not graphic). I've underlined and bolded where things begin and end, so when you see a line that is **bolded and underlined (like so)** you may want to skip until you see the next **bolded and underlined** sentence. Cool?  
> I want to say this: Lexa deals with self-esteem issues, so sometimes the way she looks at herself or sees things can be hard to read or imagine. There's too many little sections to try and bold and underline them all, and honestly they're a major part of Lexa's POV so if reading about struggles with self-esteem is something that puts you in a bad headspace, you might want to skip this piece all together. Protect your mental health, folx. 
> 
> With that being said, the way Clarke loves Lexa helps her so much.
> 
> This is unbeta'd, so yeahhhh. Errors happen, and I'm owning it.

The knowledge that you would do just about anything for this girl catches you by surprise.

She's the total opposite of you, the yin to your yang, but there's such an odd sensation of feeling complete when she's around. You never believed in love at first sight until her, and the knowledge that you were head over heals for her before you ever even heard her speak is a secret you'll take to your grave. She was a kind of sunrise you'd never seen before and a sunset you wanted to watch forever. You knew after the first conversation that you wouldn't be able to walk away, and you were just thankful that she seemed to feel the same.

You always preferred the company of those who talked a lot, because it allowed you the comfort of being able to stay silent. You liked the quiet, you were used to it, and it was easier for you to maintain the status quo than try to be one way with some people and another way with others. But something about her made you want to talk, sing, laugh, dance, fly...whatever your buzzing body could manage. You didn't have the same practiced conversational skills she did, and sometimes it took more than one try to get your point across. It still does. Even when her words are harsh and grating, though, there's a warmth about the way she sticks around--a gentility in the way she peels back every one of your layers and marvels at the mess underneath.

~~< < :: >>~~

**5 years ago**

You saw her when she got out of her car that day, struggling to get her clothes situated and her bag together before shutting the back door on the driver's side and making her way towards the building. You watched her walk with her head down, avoiding eye contact and mumbling to herself as she approached the office door. She stopped, leaned against the wall and hid her face in her hands. You wanted to ask her what was wrong, but before you could get your legs to work, she wiped at her eyes, shook out her hands and took a deep breath before going inside.

You didn't see her after that, but there was no shortage of talk about her. You heard it from every direction, never spoken directly to you, but that was the beauty of being quiet. It allowed you to be somewhat invisible. You knew so many secrets, so many sordid tales of the student body that hadn't made their way around school, yet the story you wanted most was hers. You wanted to talk to her, you wanted to make her laugh, you wanted to be close to her. You just wanted to know her.

"Might as well talk to her Woods," Anya pushed past you while grabbing her food.

You shook your head, telling yourself that you'd only make a fool of yourself if you tried. For all you knew, she was still involved with the person that shared in the responsibility of that baby bump. And who the hell were you to involve yourself in things like that? You were the poster-child for shitty upbringings and you figured that made you pretty damn ill-equipped for parenthood. Even if it was just dating someone who had a child.

"She's clearly not a stranger to cock," your friend so eloquently mentioned. "If nothing else, the pregnancy hormones could play to your favor."

"You don't even know her, Ahn," you mumbled.

"Facts are facts, Lexacoon. Pregnant women get horny, and you could be the remedy for those mood swings."

 **You hated that nickname.** She gave it to you when you were both 12, after your dad had blacked both of your eyes, and you had to stay out of school to keep from drawing attention. You weren't exactly friends, but because she lived in the same dump of a neighborhood that you did, Anya had been the one to bring your assignments by so you didn't fall behind. ' _Fuck sakes, Woods, you look like one of those goddamn trash-pandas_ ,' she'd told you when she saw you. ' _You sure he didn't do any permanent damage? How many fingers am I holding up right now?_ ' she said, shooting you a bird with both hands. Despite her teasing, you knew she meant well. That may have even been when a true friendship started between the two of you. But you still hated the nickname.

 **You waited 2 more days** , and then you finally talked yourself into asking if you could sit by the blonde. She agreed, and you had to fight your heart exploding at the thought of having to carry on a full conversation for once. But she kinda made you want to. 

You wanted to answer every question, tell her every stupid joke you knew, and more than anything you wanted her to know that she was unlike anyone you'd ever met.

"You can sit, Lexa, I don't bite," she teased you as she patted the couch next to her. "What do you like to watch? Are you more the comedy type? Action? No wait!! I think I know. _You_ like documentaries, don't you?"

You didn't watch TV. You didn't own one--didn't own much of anything, really. You only had a phone because Anya and Lincoln took turns paying for it. You weren't thrilled with taking hand-outs, but they told you they needed to be able to get ahold of you. Sometimes, they felt like the brother and sister you never had: the three of you were like triplets that had been separated at birth but found your way back to each other. You didn't have much, but you had them. Them and Clarke.

On nights when you stayed at Anya's, the two of you stayed outside on her porch mostly until it was time to go to bed. When you crashed at Lincoln's, you helped him work on his truck until the wee hours of the morning and then you showered and passed out until 6 AM when you had to grab your shit and get out before his step-dad got home from working night-shift. You didn't really have a lot time for things like TV, but it was your first time coming over to her house and you didn't want to be rude. You also didn't want to expose everything about yourself. Not yet anyway.

"You got me," you offered a chuckle. "I'm a closet nerd who likes deep sea documentaries. Great whites, Marianas trench, giant squids...that's my shit."

When you first ran away from your foster parents' place, you perfected the art of sneaking in and spending the night inside the local library. You'd get about 4 hours of sleep on one of the cushioned benches in the autobiography section, but the rest of the time you'd spend perusing everything from comic books to self-help. You'd read a few different things in the marine biology section that peaked your interest, so you felt secure in the fact that what you told Clarke wasn't a total lie.

"Just to be clear," she said, with a blush painting her face, "This isn't...like...a 'Netflix & Chill' kind of situation."

"Netflix & Chill?"

She gawked at you for a moment. "Yeah...Netflix & Chill. Like...Amazon Prime Sexy time, Hulu & Do You, Roku & Choke You. You've never heard of that?"

"No!" you laughed hysterically, the first time you ever remembered doing such a thing, "No I haven't. But I gotta say....I'm a fan!"

"Well, not this time," she reminded you, "But maybe, someday, you and I can discover the finer points of it together. Later, when I'm not...looking like _this_."

"I think you look beautiful."

You watched as she smiled and then tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. She kissed you so quick that you barely had time to register the blur of her face moving forward, her lips pressing into yours so hard and fast that it almost knocked the air out of your lungs, and then she was gone. Sitting with her back leaned into your body, your arm wrapped around her belly and your fingers tangled with hers, you weren't sure how to settle yourself down. Being this close to people made you nervous. Fists and kicks and spit in your face were what you naturally associated with proximity like this. But you couldn't tell her that. She deserved beautiful things and moments like these and you couldn't ruin that with the ugly parts of your life.

When Clarke went into labor, she asked her parents to call you and let you know. They told you that there was no need for you to hurry up there, that first babies usually take a while, and that Clarke wouldn't be great company right then anyway. But there was nothing that could have kept you away. You left Lincoln's and walked 6 miles to get to the hospital. When you got there, Abby happened to catch you in the hallway on the first floor when she was coming back from the cafeteria.

"Honey, you're drenched in sweat," she seemed concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, no, I just....I umm....I wanted to get here as soon as possible but....I don't have a car, so-"

"Did you run here?"

"No ma'am," you answered honestly. "I walked. It was only a couple miles or so from my cousin's house."

"Lexa, sweetie, you didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to. I wanted to be here," you said, letting the ' _for her_ ' remain in the safety of your own head.

Clarke's mother stood there, smiling at you and shaking her head. "Come on," she motioned for you to follow her. "I have shampoo and soap in my office. You can use the staff locker-room just across the hall from it to shower and change. I have some things I need to do in my office, but when you're done I'll take you up to her room, okay?"

"I....uh..." you stuttered, "I appreciate the offer, but I didn't bring any extra clothes with me."

"What size are you? I probably have something you can wear. And there's a few new pair of underwear I keep in the bottom drawer of my desk, in case I need to shower here-"

"Mrs. Griffin," you had to steel your features and make your voice stronger. "I umm...Thank you, really. I could definitely use a shower, and I'll take an extra shirt or pants if you got it. But I don't wear women's underwear. It's not--I don't mean to offend you--I just...my anatomy doesn't work with-"

"Boxers or briefs?"

You actually choked on air when those words left her mouth. You weren't sure if she understood what you were saying, but you were thankful she cut you off before it got weird. "Either. Thank you."

"Go ahead in there and I'll bring everything over in a sec," she pointed to a door that read 'Employees Only'. "I always keep supplies in the cabinets of my office in case we get homeless patients that we need to bathe and all that. It helps to have something for them to wear that isn't a paper-thin gown while we get their clothes washed, too."

A prouder person might have been upset; not because she offered you things, but because you suddenly found yourself lumped into a category that you never realized you were in. You never called yourself homeless, but it actually fit you (not that she knew that) and even so you weren't offended by what she said or the way she said it. She wasn't looking down on you or people like you. She was only trying to help without making it feel like a charity case. Without making _you_ feel like a charity case. It gave you a newfound appreciation and respect for the woman and her work there, and you knew exactly how Clarke turned out the way she did.

On the way to Clarke's room, her mother took the time to talk to you and answer any questions that you had about delivery. Then she asked her own questions, and you answered as honestly as you could.

"Are you and Clarke a _thing_?" the older woman asked. "She's giddy around you. I've just never seen her like this before, is all."

You hoped she couldn't see you blushing, but the smirk on her face told you that she could. "Yes ma'am," you replied, choosing to keep the details to yourself and make your answer as simple as possible. "We're...a _thing_."

"Hmmm," her smirk grew. "Can I trust you, Lexa?"

That question surprised you. "How do you mean?"

"Clarke's fragile. She's in a really scary place in her life right now: 16 and having a baby of her own, on her own. She's in a new town, with new people....and, now I know, a new relationship. I just worry. I like you, Lexa, but I don't want to see my baby get hurt, okay? So if this is too much for you......if being in a... _thing_...with a teenage mother is too much, please be honest with her and don't string her along. She's been through a lot already, and....I can't take care of my baby and my grand-baby at the same time. I need her in a good state of mind for this..."

You hated these moments. You hated being watched, being looked at to say the right thing or do the right thing. You always seemed to find a way to fuck up, so being put on the spot like that normally sent you into red-alert mode. But this time you felt ready. You were prepared. You knew the answer, and even if it wasn't the right answer according to her, it was the right answer to you.

"I'm here," you said in response to the woman, "Until she tells me to go."

~~< < :: >>~~

**4 years ago**

It was a hole in the wall, but it was home sweet home for you. You found it by chance; the add in the paper said ' _Labor needed: tile work, painting, plumbing, and electric (new ceiling fixture). Will pay generously. Need finished ASAP_.' You knew a little bit about doing that kind of work, though you didn't exactly have a license or an education for any of it, and you needed the money to get a place. You needed stability--you promised Clarke's mom stability--and you intended to make good on that promise. You were thankful that the lady who needed the work done was impressed with your knowledge and didn't care about the lack of a license. 

You were even more thankful when you found out that she was fixing up the tiny studio to be able to rent it out. You asked how much and what you needed to pay to be able to move in, but she told you that once the work was done, you could move in anytime and she'd just take the "first, last, and deposit" off of your pay for doing the job. She also told you that any improvements you made to the place while living there, she'd take the expenses out of your rent. It was a great arrangement, and she was nice enough to feed you while you worked. You didn't think she considered you a friend, but she spoke candidly with you anyway. She told you what it was like being a single mother to her son, and how she'd fallen in love with a wealthy man who was already married with 3 grown children and no use for a new family. The money she used to buy the house was part of a deal she made to keep herself and their baby away. She told you she wished she hadn't taken the money and that she'd pushed the issue in court, but there was ' _no use crying over spilled milk now_ '.

You had the place fixed up, landed an actual job, bought yourself a cheap car, and had yourself moved in by the time Clarke started back to school after summer break was over. You overheard one of many phone calls to daycares, price-checking and questioning availability, and you couldn't believe how much it cost for a baby to go to one of these places for just a few hours a day. Plus you had to provide your own diapers, formula, and other things. You offered to keep Binx while Clarke was at school, because it didn't make sense for him to go to daycare when you were off during the day, anyway.

The morning Clarke dropped him off and kissed you on her way out the door, you realized just how unprepared you were for a baby. You needed to go get things, but Clarke didn't leave Binx's carrier and it wasn't safe to just carry him in the car with you. You remembered the car-seat still sitting in the box, in your landlord's garage, and you asked if you could use it, ' _just for a quick trip to the store for some necessities_ '. 

The woman, Indra, smiled at you and told you, "Keep it, hun. I got it for my son's girlfriend, but the baby was still born. He brought it here so that she wouldn't have to look at it and be reminded. They broke up, and he's not trying with anyone else right now, so it's no sense in it just laying around."

She also told you that it was better to make your own baby food than buy the processed kind. "I have a food processor inside the house, you can use it anytime you want. Just make sure you date everything if you make it in bulk." 

You hadn't even thought about baby food. Or extra diapers. Or extra bottles in case Clarke forgot. Or formula in case you ran out. "If he's having trouble sleeping it may be because he's not getting full enough. You can put rice cereal in the bottle before you put him to bed and that'll help him sleep longer," Indra advised. 

You guessed she just assumed he was yours and that he would be staying there longer than just the day. You didn't even bother correcting her.

"Wait," the blonde stared at you from across the table. "So she thought you were straight?"

"I never said that. I just....I think she...I think she assumed that Binx was mine. That maybe I had some type of shared custody or something, and he'd be living here, at least part time."

"Well," Clarke giggled, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter. "I guess that little PDA moment in the driveway today showed her otherwise, huh?"

You blushed thinking about the moment you turned around to see Indra standing on the back part of her wrap-around porch, the only one in the area she lived. You were positive that she had just seen the very heated kiss that you and Clarke shared up against her car. Her parents had offered to watch Binx for the night so you two could have some "girlfriend time". You hated that you wouldn't get to see him, but you were also very excited to spend the night with your girlfriend. So excited that you couldn't help pinning her to the car as soon as she got out.

"If there was ever a question in her mind, I'm sure that kiss answered it for her."

"That and the tent in your shorts," she cackled.

You turned 100 different shades of red. "It was not _that_ bad, so just...hush."

"Get over here and make me."

~~< < :: >>~~

**3 years ago**

"Let me see if I understand what you're saying: You want me to keep the baby so you can take your girlfriend out to dinner--probably get laid, too, mind you--and thereby forego my own possibility of dinner, dessert, and sex with my own girlfriend?"

"Anya," you tried to put on your serious face. "Not everything is about sex. I bought a ring-"

"Wait, whaaaatt?? You're proposing? Like...' _Going to the chapel_ ', ' _Wanna spend my life with you_ ,' ' _Til death do us part_ ,'? You're for real??"

"Yes."

"No."

"No you won't keep the baby?"

"No, you're not proposing-"

"Who's not what?" Raven interrupted, coming out of the office at the shop where she and Anya both worked.

"Lexa's proposing," Anya rolled her eyes. "Well, not if I can help it. I mean...shit, somebody's gotta talk you down from the ledge. Tell her, babe; tell her it's a fucking terrible idea."

"I think it's a great idea, actually," the Latina said, choosing your side of things. "They've been together for a while, they're already co-habitating, and they have a baby."

"No," the honey-blond girl shook her head, wiggling her finger as if she were scolding her girlfriend for her mistake. " _Clarke_ has a baby. _Lexa_ has a girlfriend who happens to have a baby."

"Binx is mine too," you argued. "He may not be mine by blood, but he's mine just the same."

"Agreed," Raven said, raising her eyebrow at Anya, daring her to say something else.

"Alright then. So what if, let's say...two years down the road...you and Clarke break up? What if she decides that she doesn't want you involved in Binx's life anymore?"

"She wouldn't--I mean, I would--"

"You have no rights, Lex. She could take that baby away from you tomorrow and you'd have ZERO rights or fighting power to do anything to stop it. The apartment is yours, you got your own car, you got a steady job that helped you get all that--those are things that you control, things she can't take. That little boy is only in your life for as long as Clarke is."

"Are you fucking kidding me right now, Ahn?"

"No, Lexa," she put her tools down and stood up straight to face you. "I'm not kidding. You do realize that Astrid loved you, right? She fucking adored you. Your dad was the reason she stayed away. He made sure she couldn't see you--couldn't help you--and the whole time he made you feel like he lost her because of you."

It was a logical argument. You had to give her that. It was a low blow, but Anya was never one to pull punches. She did what she had to do to get by, and had influenced your ways of doing the same. She had told you after your dad left that she knew your ex step-mom, and that she knew a lot of things you dad didn't want you to know. He needed control and his way of keeping it was to make you feel worthless and like you owed him something. You hated that Anya pulled that card, that she made you relive those memories in moments like this when you were supposed to be excited about the future, but you couldn't deny that she was right, and that you did have reason to fear being cut out. 

You had no legal rights, and while you would never ask for repayment for anything you'd bought, you hated the thought of Clarke leaving and taking your son, leaving you to stare at the things you bought while thinking about the life you had. Like the car-seat Indra had given you, sitting there, unopened and a constant reminder of dreams never fully realized or things that never came to fruition. You couldn't bear the thought...

"Babe," Raven tried to reason with your friend. "Stop. Clarke is not like that, and you know it. She wouldn't do that to Lex. Hell, she wouldn't do that to Binx. Lexa's the only other parent he's ever known, she wouldn't keep him from seeing her."

"You never know what people are truly capable of doing until you test them," Anya stood her ground. "I mean...people stay together for years, decades even, without ever getting married. Get married and then two months later, you can't stand each other and you're getting a divorce. Just...Fuck Lex, just let things be what they are now and be happy with it. You're making it, kiddo. You're _finally_ making it. Why isn't that good enough?"

"Because I'm tired of trying to 'make it'. I don't want to just 'make it', anymore, Ahn. I wanna be happy," you paused, choosing your words carefully. "They make me happy."

"Make yourself happy."

"Anya-"

"No. I'm not keeping the baby," she slammed her hand onto the car in front of her. "You wanna propose? Fine. Do it, you fucking kamikaze. But take the baby to dinner with you, make sure you can see him when you're down on one knee, and make sure that your proposal includes the words ' _Will you promise not to use my attachment to your son against me?_ ' because I swear to you, when shit goes wrong, that's what happens--9 times outta 10--and I don't want to see you or that little boy go through that."

"Since when did you start carrying about Binx?" you asked, flabbergasted. "You hate kids."

"Every single one of them," she answered you, her eyes a mix of emotions you hadn't seen from her before, "Except him."

"He's her kiddie kryptonite," Raven laughed, despite the inappropriate timing. "We'll keep him for you, Lex. Don't worry about General Grumpy-pants over here."

You got it then. Anya wasn't just protecting you and Binx's feelings; she was protecting her own. Anya grew up the same way you did practically; the only difference was that your mother was dead and your father was a violent drunk, while her parents were hardly ever sober enough to acknowledge her existence. Anya had raised herself, and though she never said it, she suffered from the same abandonment issues you did. If Clarke did leave, and if she did refuse to let you see Binx, then it would only make sense that Anya, Raven, Octavia, and even that shit-head Murphy wouldn't be allowed to see the little boy either. Anya was just as scared of your relationship ending as you were. 

On the other hand, Clarke, her family, and the baby had been the only sense of normal that you'd ever had and been able to hold on to. You could imagine how hard it was for Anya to think about what you would be like if you didn't have that anymore. If things got as bad as they had when your dad first left. When you felt like you didn't deserve people who cared about you. When you felt like a waste of time. 

**Anya had been the one to find you,** laying in an alley behind the ratty neighborhood store, overdosed on whatever pain medicine the hospital had given you when you were discharged. That's how you ended up in an argument with your foster parents and why you ended up running away. You were just a check to them, anyway. Why did they care if you off'd yourself? Because they'd loose money? You left that night and you never went back, which is why Anya and Lincoln started keeping their eyes on you whenever they could. You hated feeling like a lame dog or some wounded little bird that nobody had the guts enough to put out of its misery. You couldn't understand why they'd rather you live and be unhappy, than die and be free of it all.

 **You didn't understand until you met Clarke**. You didn't think you mattered--didn't believe you had a purpose--and then you met her. You understood Anya's worry, but you also knew that Clarke was special and there had to be a reason why you felt the way you did about her.

When Clarke said what she said, when (in the heat of the moment) she referred to Binx as ' _my son_ ', it hurt you. It hurt you because it felt like everything Anya had said was true. Clarke could leave you, and she could take your son with her. There was nothing you could do to stop that. Not even marrying her.

But you couldn't keep living your life in fear. 

Clarke surprised you with a mini-vacation at the beginning of June. You didn't know why you needed to drive 4 hours, get a hotel room, and stay the weekend just to be able to ' _spend some time together, as a family_ '. You woke up in the hotel room that first morning and Clarke was already awake, quite abnormal for her, and she already had Binx fed, bathed, and ready to go. You felt bad because you didn't realize she had a schedule. You didn't set your alarm because you wanted her to be able to rest. That was the purpose of this vacation, wasn't it?

As you loaded up in the car, she told you that she would be driving and that she had something special to show you. You were quiet, but inside you were asking a billion different questions about where she could possibly be taking you, what she wanted you to see, and if you'd have to act happy to be there. You weren't as social as her, but you tried when you went places together. You guessed this was going to be a theme park. Clarke loved them, and you loved that she loved them. You enjoyed watching her light up with raucous kind of joy as she conquered the rides. You hated all the people, the feeling of them staring, the lack of control, and the expensive food, drinks, and souvenirs. But you were happy to be there with her.

When she asked--no, _demanded_ \--that you blindfold yourself for the remaining 5 minutes of the drive, you got nervous. You didn't like not being able to see; you couldn't protect yourself or your family from something you couldn't see. Yet, you did it anyway. You trusted Clarke, and you could still hear Binx babbling in the backseat to you, so you felt safe enough to cover your eyes and let the surprise happen. 

The car stopped and you sat patiently, listening to your fiancee getting things together. Your legs bounced and your hands fidgeted, picking at your shirt and the cargo shorts you had on. The humid air hit your face as your door opened and you undid your seatbelt in preparation to remove the blindfold.

"Mama!!" You felt a tiny hand reach out and touch your hair, fingernails that needed to be clipped scratching at the bandana tied around your head.

You took that as a hint and pulled it up so you could see. Despite the bright sunlight making you squint, you could just make out the shape of a whale in front of you.

"Surprise, my love," you heard Clarke say as you stared, wide-mouthed, through the windshield. "Welcome to Tondici Aquarium: the biggest Aquarium in the state."

She busied herself putting your son in his stroller, and you got yourself together enough to get out of the car and stretch your legs. She brought you to the aquarium. You'd never been; you missed the class field trip because you had a bruise in the shape of your dad's hand around the back of your neck. You didn't really care at the time, but after seeing all the shows on Netflix and Discovery, you were fascinated with the ocean and its secrets. You couldn't believe she actually thought enough to bring you. You looked over at your son, pointing in the direction of the giant whale at the entrance, and a feeling came over you that you couldn't explain.

"Just excuse me today," the blonde laughed, "I'm gonna be snapping pictures left and right, because it's his first time and...I just can't wait to see how he reacts to everything."

You didn't normally like taking pictures, but you cherished the photo album Clarke created with the pictures of that day. You noticed that every picture either featured you smiling, laughing, or with your mouth hanging open in pure awe. The pictures of Binx were basically the same. Oddly, in almost every picture of the three of you, instead of facing the camera Clarke was looking at you (or you holding Binx) and wearing the most heavenly of smiles. You loved her. You were so madly in love with her, and you could only hope, by looking at those pictures, that that smile meant she felt the same way about you.

"Marry me," you remembered telling her in the underground tunnel, with all the sharks and fish swimming above you.

She smirked, both hands reaching up to cup your cheeks and smush them together so you looked like a fish. She mimicked your look, planting a kiss on your lips with her own.

"I already said Yes, Lex," she mumbled against your mouth. "And I don't need to be told twice."

"No, I--well, yes I know you said you would, but....I meant here. Marry me here, in this tunnel, with all this magic around us."

You watched as she looked up and took in the whole scene, almost as if she were picturing it in her head, and just 5 short months later, you were standing there again. With her hands in yours and your green eyes locked onto her baby blues, you said your vows and exchanged 'I do's. Your first dance as a married couple was on a clear, round platform, out in the middle of that huge tank. The platform was lit up, and the string lights that stretched overhead reminded you of stars twinkling as she leaned her head onto your collarbone and let you lead the dance.

Later the two of you managed to sneak off, back to the tunnel, while everyone else stayed above ground. You shared sloppy kisses and swallowed her gasps when she couldn't be quiet anymore. As you gave each other the once-over, making sure your apparel was in order before you re-emerged, she kissed your neck and husked into your ear, "Darlin' it's betta, down where it's wetta, take it from me."

You were still blushing when Anya handed your son to you, noting, "It's a shame you guys already took pictures. I'd love to hear you explain why your shirt is so unevenly buttoned in all your wedding photos."

~~< < :: >>~~

**2 years ago**

You had some experience with legal paperwork, though yours was for name-change and it was for an adult. With your father gone and you not being emancipated, you had to wait until you turned 18 to change your name legally. You found a firm in town that helped indigent people with legal fees, and they agreed to help you with your paperwork free of charge, and to make sure it went through without you having to pay anything. Anyone who actually spoke to you at school, students and staff included, just called you Woods. It had been that way for a while, and only a handful of people seemed to remember your birth name and even then they never used it. You'd been given the name Axel Augustus Woods at birth, but your father had called you Axe since you were in diapers. When it was finally time to file paperwork and quit living your life in limbo, you took one look at your name, flipped it, and decided you liked how unique 'Lexa' would be.

Your birthday gift from Clarke was a packet of papers that you carefully read through, and the more you read the more you wanted to cry. And you didn't even know why. 

It was a petition for adoption, and in the paperwork it stated that Binx's last name would be changed to yours. He would be, _legally_ , a Woods. And the thought of that just sent your emotions into overload. He was yours regardless, but with this...it would be official.

You imagined filling out papers for school, emergency care cards and permission slips for field trips, and you imagined a little blonde haired boy running with a jersey that had your last name on the back. You felt your throat tighten with the words ' _that's my kid!_ ' echoing in your head as you pictured yourself turning to other parents sharing the stands with you, pointing to your little boy and beaming with pride. You imagined picking him up from daycare and the teacher handing you pictures he'd drawn, probably of you, him, and his mother...maybe a dog or some type of pet...and at the bottom of the picture would be his name--Bodi 'Binx' Woods. It made you think of seeing Clarke's signature at the bottom of her paintings and sketches. You secretly hoped he'd be creative like her and that you'd be dragged into their finger-painting sessions, maybe end up as their model or even their canvas.

"Lex..."

Her voice snapped you out of your thoughts and back to the reality of the paperwork in front of you. The paperwork that would give you rights if anything ever happened, to her or between the two of you.

"Lexa, we don't have to file it now. If you want to talk about it, we can do that. If you feel like this is rushed and you want to wait a bit, we can--"

"No," you shook your head, biting your lip to keep the tears from pooling in your eyes. You were happy. You were so happy. Why were you on the verge of breaking down? "Clarke, this is...perfect. I want this. I've wanted it for a while so...just show me where to sign."

That night in your bed, you held her tucked into your body like the little spoon. She always seemed to fit you so well, something you took as a sign that you were meant to be.

"He was never listed on the birth certificate," Clarke sighed when you asked her about Binx's other biological parent.

"Did he know about him?"

"He did," she answered quietly. You thought she was going to cut the conversation off there, and you would have respected her decision to do so, but after a moment to gather herself, she continued. "I met him at a hospital function where they were honoring my mom. His dad was some big-time Chief of Surgery. I was introduced to him as a formality, but he seemed very intent on it being something more. I liked him. He was sweet, and talkative, and always had something to add to any conversation. A natural charmer, I guess you could say."

"How long were you together?"

"Oh no, we weren't....together, at all. I just...yeah. He charmed his way into my panties that night, took my virginity, and then...I never heard from him after."

"Damn."

"Yeah," she seemed to concur with your speechlessness. "When I found out I was pregnant, I kept it a secret for as long as I could because I knew my mother would ask questions. I wasn't dating anyone, hadn't had a boyfriend since junior high, and I knew she would want to know how and when it happened. Eventually I couldn't hide it, and everything I was worried about happening, happened. She asked me how long I'd known, asked me who I was seeing and why I'd been so secretive. When I told her about Finn, about that night and afterwards...she approached his father. His father.......well, let's just say that he gave my mom an ultimatum. Either have me abort the baby and he would cover the expenses--forget the fact that I was already 6 and a half months, almost 7 months along by then--or my mom's job would be on the line. That's why we moved here. Because my mom told him to fuck off, in front of the hospital admin."

"And Finn?"

"He waited for me by my car one day after school. He was a freshman in college so it's not like we had to avoid each other every day or anything. Anyways, he grabbed me by the arm and told me that if I thought I was going to ruin his future and trap him with a kid, I was sorely mistaken. I told him I didn't want anything from him, his father, or anyone else. He told me that he hoped the baby died. I just....I never thought he would be that cruel. Ever. To say that kind of thing? You have to hate someone, a lot, to wish that kind of emotional anguish on them."

"He never deserved you," you assured her, kissing her bare shoulder.

"His father contacted my mom about 6 or 7 months ago," she admitted in the darkness. "I wanted to tell you then, but you still didn't know the story about him and...I just wasn't ready to tell it, honestly. I'm glad you know now, though. He apologized to my mom for what happened and for how he handled it. He said that he wished he could take it all back, and when my mom asked why he was calling, he told her that Finn was...dead. And that he knew he shouldn't expect my mom or me to want to have anything to do with him. But that he just wanted some piece of his son. He just wanted a connection..."

"Oh. Well, I mean....how did he die? Did he have some type of health issues? Should we have Binx tested-"

" **It was a murder-suicide**." You held your breath, waiting for what felt like an eternity for details. "I don't know everything, but I know it was his girlfriend. He killed her and then waited for the cops to show up. He pointed a gun at them. I guess he thought suicide by cop was the way to go. Marcus says he was the wrong skin-color; if he had been......you know, things just would have gone much different if Finn wasn't who he was. When he figured out they weren't going to shoot him, he did it himself. His mother was...distraught, naturally. My mom said Dr. Collin's told her that his wife never knew anything about Binx--not until after Finn was gone. She's part of the reason his dad got in touch with my mom."

" **Ahh, I see**."

You tried not to feel...offended? Maybe that wasn't the right word, but it actually fit very well. You weren't offended for yourself, though. You were offended on Clarke's behalf. How could this family think that it was okay to just....reach out, grasping at straws....after so long, after everything that had happened. Everything that this man had put into motion.

However, as quickly as the anger bubbled up inside you it dissipated with the thought that had it not been for this man, you wouldn't have everything you did. Clarke would never have moved here, and you would never have met her (maybe), and you would never have held Binx in your arms and heard him pretend to dinosaur rawr at you. You would never have known what it felt like to be this happy. To be whole.

"I didn't want to speak to him, so I told my mom to deliver a message for me. I told her to tell him that I was happy, and healthy, and married, and that neither I nor my child needed or wanted anything from him or his wife. I told her to tell him that things happened the way they did for a reason and that I was sorry for his loss, but that the last thing his son said to me was that he hoped my baby died. I wanted him to know that I forgave Finn, and I forgave him too, but I've never thought of them as Binx's family, and I don't feel like I owe any of them anything."

You agreed. You wanted to clap for her after she said it, but you stayed there, holding her instead. Part of you wondered if she felt obligated to you; did she feel like she had to say that, like she had to dismiss them, or you'd be upset with her? "If you want--"

Her hand clasped onto yours like she could read your mind and feel your insecurities. "I don't, Lex. _You_ are Binx's family. Not them. I don't want him to be influenced by people like that. I want him to be like us--like you, and like me. I want him growing up with our family and our people; I want him surrounded by the people that love him and want what's best for him, and will do anything to make sure he's taken care of."

You remembered the promise you made Abby that night at the hospital. You remembered the promise you made yourself. And Clarke's words only served to reinforce your commitment to those promises. These were your people and you would love and protect them at all costs.

"Do you...think differently of me now?"

"Why would I?"

"Because I was stupid enough to give my virginity to some smooth-talking guy I met, the same night I met him, and I didn't even think about using protection."

You didn't think of it as being stupid. You certainly didn't think that she was stupid. You understood what it was like to be swept up in things.

"I met Costia when I was 16," you started. You were afraid that once you started, once you opened this worm-hole, you wouldn't be able to stop. But she was worth it. She needed to know that. She needed to know that she wasn't alone, and that everyone made poor decisions. It didn't make her stupid. It made her human.

"My cousin Lincoln, he uhh...he used to deal," you waited for her to say something, as most people would, but she stayed silent so you continued. "He didn't do it for long, but...he made good money when he did. I told him I wanted in. I was trying to save money to get my own place, to prove to the courts that I could take care of myself and get emancipated. I met Costia at a party where I was delivering some...'product'. She was older than me, a university student on summer break, and I went in thinking I could just...mess around with her, like I had with other girls, and that it would be okay."

"She didn't force you....did she?"

"No." She didn't force you. But just like Clarke, you put your trust in someone whose intentions didn't include sticking around or caring about your feelings. "She was nice, and pretty, with tons of pretty words to go with it all. I embarrassed the hell out of myself. I was so nervous I blew my load trying to get the condom on. But she was patient with me, helped me through my first time, and I thought....maybe there was something there, between us. The next morning I woke up in this motel room, alone, with a note on the nightstand that said to be out by 11 a.m. I felt....really, really dirty...for a long time after that."

"I'm sorry she made you feel like you weren't worth more than some cheap motel and a check-out time."

"I'm not." You wanted her to understand; you wanted her to know how that experience shaped you, just like her experience shaped her. "Because of her, I learned to do things the right way, for me."

"And what is right for you?"

"This," you told her without any hesitation. "You and me." 

~~< < :: >>~~

**1 year ago**

For the life of you, you couldn't understand what you did wrong.

You stayed in school, you graduated, you got a job, you took care of yourself and your family, and you tried to stay out of trouble while doing it all. You had your dalliances with drugs and alcohol, but that was before her. Before the angel, straight from the heavens, came into your life and showed you what was worth living for, what mattered.

You couldn't figure out what you'd done, in this life or a past one, to deserve this. Why now? Why when things were going so well for you?

Lincoln had warned you. His mom had called him, saying that Gus was back and on a tear, looking for 'Axel'. Lincoln said his mom told him, ' _He's dead, Gus. Now go back to whatever rock you crawled out from underneath_.' Unfortunately, your father was never one to give up so easily. He knew people who knew people, he had drinking buddies everywhere, and somebody who worked at the courthouse told him he might be looking for the wrong person.

 **"Said I should try looking for _Lexa_ Woods,"** your father guffawed from across the kitchen. " _Lexa_. What kind of name is _that_? 's a nickname, you--It's not even a real name. I've told you a hundred times: if something's worth doing, it's worth doing right. But you...you couldn't even be bothered to write a few extra letters. Jesus Christ."

You let him ramble, knowing he was drunk and it changed nothing. He went on and on about his travels and where he'd been, the women he'd bedded, and how he narrowly avoided jail several times. He loved to brag about things like that. He used to throw you around, beat the brakes off you, and then brag about how he'd get away with it. You always wondered what would happen if you told on him. Maybe he wouldn't get away with it. Maybe he'd get in trouble. Maybe you'd end up somewhere better. Maybe you'd end up in a group home or something, and someone would come through and pick you out like little orphan Annie. 

Or maybe not. Maybe he would still get away with it, and worse than anything else he'd be angry. Maybe he'd beat you so bad he'd kill you. The fear was always there. 

After a while, you stopped being afraid of death. After so many times of having to miss school or having to wear hoodies in the middle of summer, you started to tell yourself that death _was_ but also _was not_ the end. It would be the end of this, sure, but it would also be the beginning of something so much better. Whether you believed in heaven and its pearly gates and streets of gold, or reincarnation and coming back as a tree or a deer or whatever else. Anything had to be better than this.

You were glad you lived through it all, though. Every day that you woke up next to Clarke, you were so thankful that you stayed alive.

"Gotcha'self a nice place here," he commented, looking around at the appliances, the cabinets you and Clarke had picked out, the hand-drawn pictures on the double doors of the fridge, and then, at your wife and your son. "Got a pretty girl....and I'm sure a real nice bed to fuck her in, too."

"Leave her out of this." It took everything within you not to raise your voice and your fists as you said it. You knew it wouldn't help things, but you hated hearing him talk about her like that. It bothered you that he even looked at her; people like him weren't meant to have precious things like her. As far as you were concerned, you weren't either, yet she chose you. "What do you want? Why are you here?"

He laughed, walking around the table until he was less than a foot from you. "I want the good life, too, _Lek-sa_." He punctuated your name just to make sure you knew how he felt about it. "Don't you think your old man deserves that?"

"You don't want to know what I think you deserve--" His boots stepped on your toes and his face was so close to yours that you had to drop your chin to your chest to keep from touching lips.

"I helped bring you into this world," his voice was low and threatening. "I raised you up, taught you how to ride a bike and how to change a tire; taught you all about the birds and the bees, too. Now you tell me...that pretty blonde over there come from money? Her parents have good jobs and drive nice cars and all that fancy shit?"

You didn't answer. He didn't need you to confirm it. At this point, you reckoned he probably knew that you were married, that you adopted your wife's son, and that your wife is the daughter of a well-known surgeon whose house dwarfed yours substantially. You guessed that he knew exactly how much you bought your house for, and he probably knew that you didn't make enough to pay for it.

The house was in both yours and Clarke's names, but it was paid for with some of Clarke's trust money. The two of you had looked and looked and everything you saw was either over-priced or not what you were looking for. This place jumped out at you one day when you missed your turn and had to detour. You were so excited to show it to Clarke, knowing that it was everything the two of you had talked about (from the outside, anyway), and when you did a walk-through the only thing either of you wanted to change was those hideous kitchen cabinets. Abby said the price was perfect and that sealed the deal for all of you. Clarke never held it over your head that, technically, it was _her money_ that had paid for you to live there. She never made you feel like you contributed any less to the house or to the life the two of you had than what she did.

But your father saw an opportunity. And you'd be damned if you let him exploit your marriage like that.

"You're not getting anything," you struggled as you said, but you knew he heard it. "Not a fucking dime, you hear me?"

You could tell by the way his hand lifted, balled into a fist, and the way he launched into a tirade about how ungrateful you were and how he always tried to look after you. You kept your head down as he yelled, wondering how much longer he'd be able to keep it going and what you'd say to make him leave when he was done. However, your toddler unknowingly forced your hand on the matter. He tripped, not uncommon for a child whose still trying to master balance and coordination, and when his juice spilled you could tell your father was livid. 

He always hated when you made a mess, even when you didn't mean to or tried not to, and you could see the look on his face change at the same time that realized your pants legs were wet.

When he reached out and yelled at the little boy on the ground, you found yourself not caring whether he hit you or not. At first, you'd been embarrassed that Clarke was watching him yell at you. You did your best to stay quiet or not say anything that you knew would set him off because you really didn't want her or your son to see what would happen. You didn't want that to be part of Binx's life the way it was for yours. But the moment you saw your son in his line of fire, your embarrassment and unease gave way to anger and protective instincts you knew you didn't get from the man in front of you.

You were glad that Clarke grabbed Binx and took him upstairs before you father turned on you, snatching you up by the throat and slamming you against the counter and cabinets. Your feet slipped on the apple juice, and you ended up on the floor with him standing over you. His hand tangled into your hair and his fist came down against your face, your head, your shoulder and arm....anything he could get to with you squirming and slipping, trying to get your footing enough to at least fight him off.

The next thing you knew, you heard a loud war-cry and the slam of a pan against skin and bone. You looked up just in time to see your wife, in all her fiery glory, swinging the cast-iron skillet her mother had left at your place and hitting your father on his left shoulder, causing him to let go of your hair and turn to her. You were so upset that it had come to this, but at the same time, you were so goddamn proud of her. With her third swing, she knocked him onto the floor and you were grateful that her attention was on him so she couldn't see how much it hurt for you to grip the counter and pull yourself up. You didn't want her to see you hurt; it wouldn't do her any good to be worried about you.

 **She told you that night that she was pregnant** , and you couldn't hold yourself back as you pulled her closer to your aching body and told her that you loved her. 

You'd always loved her. It was just that, suddenly, you weren't so afraid to tell her. After what she'd done, how she'd fought for you, she deserved to hear it. She deserved to hear it in every breath until you had no more. 

~~< < :: >>~~

**Present Day**

"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," you whisper as you rock. "Next to your mommy and your brother, of course. We can't pick favorites, ya know? That wouldn't be fair."

You take every opportunity to get up and rock your daughter back to sleep after a good feeding. Clarke usually gets up with her, mostly because she's the food source so it only makes sense, but whenever she's able to pump out a few extra bottles, you take advantage of the chance to feed and rock your little one, delighting in the way her tiny hand wraps around your long finger.

Brette Abigail Elise Woods was born in the middle of the night, and your wife often jokes that it's the same time every night that she wakes up screaming to be fed. You don't give much thought to that though. Babies don't have a sense of timing like that. Right?

The playlist Clarke made to help your daughter sleep is almost done playing as you watch her eagerly devouring her bottle while staring contentedly at you. Her dark curls and tie-dyed blue-green eyes contrast nicely with Binx's still blonde hair and his steely grey eyes. Her temperament is similar, only crying when she's hungry or in pain, but she's far more serious than her brother. Binx giggled and cooed about everything as a baby; it takes an act of congress to get Brette to even gurgle like she's _mildly_ entertained by you. Binx loved when Clarke would do the flying spoon routine when she was feeding him. Brette stares at Clarke with a perfectly-arched baby brow lifted, unamused with the theatrics.

What they do have in common is they both love to hear you sing. You've never been one to sing in front of people, but when it's just you and your babies, you sing your heart out. They love music in general, but their smiles become positively radiant when you sing along with the radio or something on the TV. You never considered yourself a great singer, but they seem to think you are.

Right now, Brette looks up at you, seemingly tolerating your talking in the hopes that you'll give up and start to serenade her instead. "You tired sweet girl?" you ask her. "You ready for a lullaby?"

Her grip on your finger becomes stronger momentarily, as if she understood your question and was trying to encourage you to move forward with your idea. Her eyes flutter and you can tell she's fighting sleep, trying to stay awake long enough for the first verse and chorus. You settle on a favorite of yours, one you have a very vague recollection of your mother singing to you before she passed.

"Baby baby, the stars are shining for you. And just like me I'm sure that they adore you," you croon. "Baby baby, go walking through the forrest. The birds above are singing you a chorus."

She jerks in your arms, her eyes still closed and mouth still on the nipple of the bottle. "Ever since the day you put my heart in motion, baby I realized that there's just no getting over you."

You continue until she's fast asleep and you can lift her and deposit her into her crib without a peep. You make your way back to your bedroom, expecting to hear the soft snoring of your wife but the first thing you hear when you try to sneak through the door is, "Stop for a minute!.....Baby, I'm so glad you're mine."

Apparently, you forgot about the baby monitor.


End file.
